


The Good Bye Hour

by lifelesslyndsey



Series: The Baker's Son Series [3]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:44:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/lifelesslyndsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss says her goodbyes and silently declares to herself, The Capitol and all of Panem that Peeta Mellark is no enemy of hers. </p><p>Part of The Baker's Son Series</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Bye Hour

**Author's Note:**

> The Hunger Games Series are in no way mine, nor do I profit by any of the following words.
> 
> AU- Instead of Peeta's name being pulled, it's Gales. Doesn't mean the boy isn't going to the Games though. Katniss s

 The next hour will hurt. She knows what's to come. The Good Bye's. Maybe, she thinks, the last goodbye. It's the one hour allotted Tributes in which they can kiss their mothers and fathers one last time.

 

Prim and her mother come first. Katniss is not surprised, though she almost wishes it were Gale. She's not ready to say the things she must, but she must.

 

“You can't leave again,” she says, breaking the silence as Prim climbs into her lap. Her eyes are only for her mother right now. “You can't leave her like that. I'm trusting you with her. I'm...I'm giving her back now, and I trust you.” It's an absurd thing to say to her mother, their mother, but Prim has been hers for five years now. Her mother does not deny it. “You'll be okay, but it won't be easy. Talk to Gale: he and I have an agreement.”

 

“You planned for this?” Her mother asks, voice breathless and broken. “Katniss---”

 

“Not for this,” she denies, though it's not entirely true. Gale had so many tesserae- so many he'd been chosen. But beyond the Hunger Games, there were always other possibilities threatening their tomorrow. Wild dogs, injury, illness, being arrested for poaching. Next year, Gale would go to the mines. They had to have a plan, they just had to. “Promise me, mother.”

 

“I...you know I couldn't help---”

 

Katniss does know, in the father corners of her mind, that there are such illnesses that can take a person to nowhere and not let them return. Still, it does nothing to ease the bitter feelings of abandonment. “Promise me,” she demands, harsh and firm. “Because I won't be there this time.”

 

She doesn't promise, not with words. A shaky nod is all that is left to comfort Katniss. It isn't much. The Peacekeepers come, a warning to the end. They hug, desperate and hard. “Promise me you'll try to win, Katniss.” Prim's grip is deceptively strong around her neck. “Promise me.”

 

Like her mother, all Katniss can muster is a shaky nod. She tries not to feel as if she's lying.

 

She waits, but only for a moment. But the knock at the door does not reveal Gale. It's Peeta Mellarks father, a broad-shoulders man with a familiar, kind face. She knows him well, but not well enough to deserve an eleventh hour visit. They trade in the market, bread for cheese, and he is far more generous with his offerings then a fiscal man should be. He's kind, just like his son. He should be with Peeta.

 

He takes her hand and lays into her palm a crinkling, white paper wrapper. Cookies, she deciphers by the sugary scent alone; they are not a luxury she is often offered.

 

The twine is rough against her fingers as she slides the paper wrapper open. Two cookies. She hands one to him, because it seems like the polite thing to do, and nibbles at the other. Sugar cookies, but she can taste the strong flavor of ginger too. Ginger, her mother had told her as a young girl, is good for stomach aches. It's a thoughtful gift, and one she could use. “Thank you Mr. Mellark.” She takes a bigger bite. “I had some of your bread this morning. You sold it to my friend Gale for a squirrel.” He nods, mouth turning up at the corners in a quiet grin. “Not your best trade,” she adds, with her own shaky smile. Her stomach eases, with every nibble. “These are really good.”

 

“Peeta made them.” He coughs, and clears his throat loudly. “I...I remember your mother, after your father died, Katniss. I want you to know I'll look after your sister. See that she's fed.”

 

Relief and shame burn within her. For all that she'd done her best to keep her mother's illness a secret, it would seem it did not go unnoticed. She can't fathom this kindness, but perhaps it's a Mellark thing. Though that would make Mrs. Mellark an anomaly.

 

There is so little to say in way of response, and she nearly loses her chance as the Peacekeepers come to collect him. “Thank you,” she mutters, sugar clinging to her lips. “I...thank you.”

 

Her next visitor is yet again not Gale. Possibly Katniss's only friend outside of Gale and Prim, and friend is a stretch, Madge is nearly wordless. “Take this,” she instructs, slipping into her palm, the small golden pin Katnis had seen earlier. “Wear it as your token.” The demand is followed by a kiss, Katniss's first, just a innocent press of lips against her own. She tastes like strawberries and Katniss taste like sugar. And then she's gone before Katniss can even think on the oddity of the situation.

 

“Katniss?” Gale's voice is rough and even, but his eyes are wide and more glossy than she's ever seen before. He looks exactly like a man who's escaped a death sentence. “Oh Catnip.” He crushes her into a hug and she lets herself sink into it, hiding from the world if only for a moment. “You know what you have to do,” he says, pressing the words into the crown of her hair.

 

“I don't know if I can,” she admits, her promise to Prim weighing guiltily on her mind. “I don't—-”

 

“You can.” He takes her by the shoulders and shakes her till she looks up at him. “Get a bow. Make a bow, if you have to. You're the best damn hunter I know. You've been hunting for years. Don't make this different. Hunt.”

 

Again, the Peacekeepers come, going so far as to pry her from Gales grip. “Don't let starve, Gale!” She cries, fingers breaking from his grip.

 

“I won't Katniss,” he promises, through the door way as the pull him along. “I won't! You can do this Catnip. Hunt. Fight. Win. Don't let Peeta---”

 

But then he's gone too, leaving Katniss to wonder; _don't let Peeta what?_

 

The car ride to the train station is disconcerting. She's never been in a car. It's small, and confining, and makes her stomach turn even for all the ginger. She doesn't cry, though it's a near thing. She can see the camera people though, scuttling about like insects. They train their cameras on her face, but she's nearly empty now, shoving every scrap of emotion down where they can't see it, or touch it. She looks bored.

 

Peeta appeared to have no reservations, crying openly if not quietly. It's not the sniveling type of cry that calls for attention, but a stoic stream of tears. She does not hesitate to take a place at his side, and take his hand into her own. After all, he had done as much for her.

 

The cameras eat it up, panning in on their laced fingers once again. She cannot imagine the stir it will cause, but the only thing that matters is that they stand together. They are openly denying the position The Games have forced them into; enemies. They are not enemies. The Capitol can make them do many things, but it cannot make her kill Peeta. That much has already been decided.  


End file.
